Clara must be trained! It is her stepmother who decides that the young woman must be a true professional when it comes to sex and domination. The insatiable Clara cannot get enough – of neither men or women. Her life is filled with sex and spanking … Before internet porn, before porn videos, before porn movies, people lusting for raunchy, X-rated entertainment read pornographic books and magazines. Victorian and Edwardian England had its own adult entertainment industry – countless erotic novels were put out by shady publishers, some books were printed by the authors themselves, and most of the writers were anonymous. Many of these 19th century books are surprisingly kinky, and some of them may be quite offensive to modern day readers – in more ways than one. The anonymously written “First Training” is a great example of sadomasochistic Victorian erotica. The author is still unknown.

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First training



CHAPTER ONE



I DO NOT recall the passing of my dear Mama, for I was then too young. I guard her likeness still, faded as it has become. That she was a gentle woman I have no doubts. I would have followed in her ways, perhaps, had not my father remarried. I remember well the coming of Stepmama, as I first called her. Father was then no more than thirty-five and she was twenty eight. I remember her being all of a glitter, much taken with jewelry as she ever is, tight-waisted, slender, and an allure to all male eyes. I remember that she awed me a little at first, for her voice, though well modulated, caused even Papa to take immediate notice of her at all times, it having a quality to it that is rare to encounter. Strange were those first days, for sometimes there was merriment, social gatherings and parties, and at others a benign silence in the house which Papa seemed to accept as his due.

My brother Robert was much taken with her. She would tease or even flatter him sometimes, but at others scold him and send him to his room. All things began to change. There was much alteration of furniture with carts drawn by great dray horses coming and going. This occasioned much excitement, but we were not allowed to express it unduly. There was too much clutter in the rooms, she declared, and so many small tables and whatnots among which the housemaids had to thread their way when cleaning were cleared away and more space made. In place of small settees, larger ones were brought in, their ornate coverings delighting me so that I loved to bounce up and down on them and feel their richly patterned surfaces.

I was not chided for this and felt myself perhaps my stepmother’s favourite. Often she cast a most kindly eye on me and fed me tidbits so that my older sister, Sarah, and Robert became jealous, but she would have none of that. We could not but notice that Papa was quieter in her presence than he had been before, and had it not been for the social proprieties I am sure she would have taken her place at the head of the table. “I wonder she does not wear the trousers,” Sarah once remarked crossly, though the words were said without malice for it was difficult to withhold admiration from her. My stepmama’s name was Julia. The name suited her for its richness. She was above middling height and indeed when she wore boots or shoes of a certain type was to be seen as tall as Papa. Her hair was sometimes taken up in a bun which revealed a lovely swanlike neck, though I preferred it when down and would beg her to let me brush it which she did, to the annoyance of Smith, her personal maid, who could often be seen glancing at her with awed eyes.

Picnics she was much fond of and would take us on them when father was about his business. From such as I learned, he had been more lax in the past with his affairs but was spurred on by her and indeed she would sometimes tell him when to go and when to return. He abided meekly by her decisions as we all did, and so as may well be imagined we looked up to her and perhaps I believe were all a little in love with her. My special pleasure as I grew older I began to occasionally assist her in dressing. Poor Smith would be sent out and I set first to help undo the hooks and eyes in her gown. This being removed revealed a delicious frothing of lacy petticoats and underskirts. As I helped remove these in turn I would sometimes find myself touching her thighs and feeling the perfumed warmth of her body, which made me quite enamoured of her. Occasionally when divested to her corset, stockings and bootees, she would even utter a little cooing sound as she held my hands to her plump silky thighs and moved them up and down while smiling at me. “Do you like the bodily pleasures?” she asked me once quaintly, seating herself before her dressing table mirror.

As she spoke she slowly unlaced the front of her corset and therewith unveiled two large firm breasts of such marbled whiteness that I could not help but gaze upon them in awe and envy. The brown nipples upon them, set in large aureoles of sweetly crinkled flesh, stuck out boldly, being conical and finely-pointed. With a little sigh as if taken herself by her beauty, she then cupped them and gazed at me smiling. “One day yours will be as large,” she said, whereat I blushed and knew not what to say. “I believe they must be very pretty already. Show me, Clara,” she went on and turned about on her stool. I turned my head towards the door and felt flustered, thinking that Smith might return. “No one will come in. Take off your dress,” I was told. The sunlight came softly into her room and made a haze of all, casting its milky shine through the dusty curtains. One is not of course ever flustered at undressing in front of another of one’s own sex, but perhaps some flickering of intuition told me of something that I could not have expressed. “Let me help you, dear,” she murmured and with that her fingers were busy all about me so that in no time at all I stood in my chemise. “Take this off, too,” came her words.

When I did so, my bubbies-already proud and firm-were revealed. Her eyes opened slightly in admiration, which of course pleased me. My titties had already grown well and would not have scorned the title of pumpkins, the skin velvet smooth and rich, and proud to display my strawberry nipples. That at least is what my stepmother called them while gently tweaking the tips until my face grew flushed and I felt them stiffen.